This Is What Happens When You Give Kids Wings
by Miss Mushroom
Summary: This is a story parallel to Maximum Ride. Meet Reyne, James, Simon avian-human hybrids along with Sophia ,Misty canine-human hybrid with a slight glitch in her DNA , Mari,Robbie feline-human hybrids, another group 'rescued' in the Experiment.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my MR fanfic that is going to be parallel to MR. Like Curiosity Killed the Cat by LoveLaughDanceWrite. Speaking of my great friend, she can be given the credit for this wonderful chapter since I was having problems with the beginning. **

**DISCLAIMER: Maximum Ride=James Patterson. Chapter One= LoveLaughDanceWrite. Reyne, James, Simon, Mari, and Sophia= ALL MINE!**

**HEY! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST FORGOT ME! GOSH...**

**Sorry Misty! (She's mine too!)**

**CH.1 REYNE**

Let me just tell you: I've never written a single thing in my life.

I've never written a report for school, never kept a journal or diary, never tried to write a book. The only thing that can be counted as "writing"—

_It's a grouping of coherent words, usually on paper._

Thank you, Sophia. Well, the only thing that can be counted as "writing" in my life is a grocery list. I think it falls under that definition. You don't have to verify for me, Soph.

So I'm sorry if this doesn't come out all pristine and perfect. I'm not an author.

What am I? Well, it's a long story.

CUT TO THE CHASE. WE'RE EXPERIMENTS.

That, there, is the cheerful spirit of us lab rats, as always brought to us by Misty. Thank you very much.

ALWAYS A PLEASURE.

So that's us: the experiments.

We sit here in a lab, and they think we don't know what they're going to do to us. They think they're so clever. Well, they're not. We're always eight steps ahead of them.

I'll take a break from the war rage to introduce us.

There's me, Reyne. Nothing special there.

Then there's James. He's a little older than me (and he likes to rub it in), taller than me (ditto), and has bigger wings than me. Yeah, that's right.

**Yo. **

A man of many words, that's him. But you should see him after they lock up the lab for the night. A party animal—stress on animal—like I've never seen before.

Then there's thirteen-year-old Misty, our expert on sarcasm. Probably the hardships in life that develop that in us.

YEAH, WELL, HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE A SUPREMELY ANNOYING GLITCH IN YOUR DNA?

That's right. There ya go.

Simon is also thirteen, blue eyes, blonde hair, real quiet. We (James and I) have been trying to set them up for years, but it never works.

He just raises an eyebrow. Of course.

Mari's eleven, and that's one kitty you really _don't _want to cross on a sugar high! _And _she wants to be a pilot. Yeah right and go figure.

She grins. She and Simon aren't really the talkative ones.

Sophia and Robbie are what we call our resident "little kids", but honestly, they're the most "alive" out of all of us. Sophia's really smart. She could've introduced herself in a novel-sized _sentence_, and it wouldn't even be a run-on.

_But I'm too modest for that._

Sweetie, when you're modest, you don't go announcing to the world that you're modest.

_Yeah, I know. Irony, see?_

Sure… Note to self: Look up "irony" at the first sign of a dictionary. I _could _just ask her, but I wouldn't sink that low.

Which, this is _me _talking, so whatever.

And last, but certainly not least, is Robbie. He's nine and is the only real sibling we have, and not even by human blood. Half of his DNA was taken from the same cat as Mari's, so they both have dark hair, olive skin, and black ears and tail. He doesn't talk much, either.

I think I owe you an explanation. You're probably totally lost by now.

I don't know if you've gathered this, but we live in a lab. Every day, we're experimented on, injected, burned, and otherwise _not _treated like the fuzzy/feathery angels we are.

YEAH. 'CAUSE THAT WOULD BE A REAL MIRACLE, IF THEY STARTED TREATING US RIGHT.

Sad, but true.

So some of us (me, James, Simon, Sophia) had bird DNA injected into us as babies. We're not the only ones; we've seen others, from different countries and labs. But basically, this DNA gave us some cooky features. Like the wings we've only tried in a wind tunnel. Or the air sacs around our lungs we're told we have. Or the amazing sense of direction that lets us pinpoint exactly where we are.

So, yeah. That's us.

Then, some of us got injected with cat DNA (Mari and Robbie). They've got fuzzy little ears perking out of their untidy hair, tails actually growing from their tailbones, and amazing reflexes, hearing, balance, et cetera.

If you've been following along, you might realize I haven't yet mentioned Misty. Good on ya.

I'M ALWAYS THE FORGOTTEN ONE. ALWAYS.

I haven't _forgotten _you, Misty, I just haven't _mentioned you yet. _But yeah, she's kinda right. She was supposed to be a cat hybrid, but instead, they accidentally injected her with DNA from a Labrador Retriever. So now her hair won't grow out past her shoulders, she's kind of a werewolf, but lab form, and there's a funny glitch in her DNA: sometimes, she's just her normal self, human and all, and sometimes she turns into a talking Golden lab, without any control on her part.

So that's us; we live in a lab. And another experiment's about to begin.

There's a noise in the corridor. "Sam," Mari whispers.

Sam LeCreaux, the "good" scientist. He's been trying to get on our good side, thinking we don't know what's coming. But we do. Mari and Robbie have incredibly good hearing, as cats. They keep us up-to-date on what the sickos are planning.

The door opens a crack and Sam peeks through. Mari's and Robbie's eyes flash in the light. Deciding it's "safe", Sam comes in and crouches in front of my and James's crates. "I'm going to break you guys out," he says.

Normally, I would've said something scathing and/or some profanity here, but we have our plan. James takes over.

"Why?"

Sam fumbles his script. I can tell this wasn't a question he was expecting.

"Well, I've kind of taking a liking to you guys. I'm going to take you to a safe house, where they can't find you." _Then I'm going to abandon you and see how you cope on your own, _I finished in my head.

Sam looks at our mistrustful faces, sighs. "You don't believe me."

"Since when have you scientists ever given us a reason to believe you?" I ask, resisting the urge to spit in his face. I'd done it before. The consequences weren't pretty.

He looks into my eyes and says, "Reyne. _Trust me._"

Then he started working on my latch.

The plan is to let all hell break loose as soon as he opens the cage. I've—well, Mari's—heard it's been done before. We've been thinking about it for a long time; at least as long as the scientists have been planning it.

Sam lets me out of my cage and doesn't clamp an arm around my wrists or call for the Erasers, which is what they usually do, but I don't expect him to. He lets James out of his crate; he straightens up and comes to stand next to me, protectively. I feel a sudden rush of affection for him.

When each of the kids is let out, they stand behind us. I must say, it feels good to finally stretch out and not be heading for certain pain. To finally be on our way to freedom.

"When we get outside," I mutter to James out of the corner of my mouth. He nods his head fractionally.

Sam leads the way outside, pretending he's looking around, as if this all wasn't part of an experiment. They want to see how well we function in a real-world environment; he'll teach us all we need to know to survive, then leave us alone and monitor how we cope. Meaning that we _won't _be free. There'll be sensors, cameras, infrared. We'll never be free.

It's cold outside; I'm afraid our gritty Salvation Army clothes aren't cutting it. I see the others shiver, but I can't do anything about it. I wonder what would happen if I just took off now. I even flex my rust-colored wings experimentally, but it's not part of the plan. It's not just for me.

It never is.

* * *

><p>YAY, WE'RE LEAVING. GOODY. WE'RE LEAVING CERTAIN DOOM AND GOING TO... CERTAIN DOOM!<p>

_Doom: the feeling or premonition of death and/or danger._

**Don't worry guys, we'll be fine. We've got a plan.**

There's always a plan.

* * *

><p>The evil scientist leads us to the car. James and I are constantly looking over our shoulders, trying to figure out how far away we'd have to be to get out of range of the guns.<p>

OF COURSE THEY HAVE GUNS.

While Misty, Mari, and Robbie have exceptional hearing, it's us bird kids that have the eyesight. I can see all the way down the barrel of a gun, pointed at me, half a mile away. Of course. Why would the gun be manned, and pointed at us, if we're escaping?

WE'RE NOT ESCAPING. WE NEVER WILL.

Suddenly, Misty's body drops to the ground and a Golden Lab stands in her place. Some colorful words stream from the retriever's jaws. "Not _now_!"

It's bad timing. If Robbie curls up, Simon can easily carry him, and Mari's not that much of a deadweight either. James was supposed to carry Misty, but neither of us knows if he could fly with a Golden Lab in his arms. We'd only ever flown in wind tunnels, and we'd carried weights, but we had no idea how much. _Crap. _

MASSIVE UNDERSTATEMENT!

Misty, if you have nothing positive to say, don't say anything at all.

_Positive: something good, nice, pleasant; on the bright side._

IF THAT'S ALL I HAD TO SAY, POSITIVE THINGS, I'D BE SHUT UP ALL MY LIFE!

James doesn't comment. I'm generally the disciplinarian in our group.

We're at the car. It's a van. It's now or never. I look around; James shakes his head. We're in no position to be escaping.

I guess it's going to be never.

OF COURSE IT IS.

When I wake up, the world is black and white. _They've injected my drugs with brains. No, the other way around; they've injected my brain with drugs, _I think frantically, my thoughts becoming twisted in themselves.

Then I realize that it's just the room.

The sheets on the bed are black; the covers are white. The wall is painted with abstract lines in shades of grey. All the furniture is either black and white, except for the floor: it seems to be covered in a patchwork quilt of fuzzy black, white, and purple squares.

I like it instantly. And that's a problem.

I remember where I am and what I'm doing. _I'm in another experiment. _Though this is the most enjoyable I've had by far.

I have to find the others.

I open the door a crack—though, if I'm right, I'm being monitored and all the stealth in the world won't do me any good—and peer out. There seems to be a hallway lined with doors. I count them. Nine.

Well, I have six kids, I'm seven. Sam makes eight. Who's nine?

I tip-toe across the hall and open the door a crack. Simon's in a dark blue room.

Misty's in a purple one.

Mari's in a pale pink one.

Sam. I close that door quickly.

Some lady I don't know. I try not to slam it shut.

Robbie's in a red room.

Sophia's in a multi-colored one.

Finally I find who I'm looking for; James, sleeping in a dark green one. I creep inside and close the door. Then I sit on his bed and try to wake him—_not _an easy task. If there's ever a heavy sleeper, it's James, even though you'd think living in a lab would've driven that out of him. But no. I'm the one who has to sleep lightly enough for both of us.

"Wake _up_!" I hiss in his ear. Predictably, he doesn't budge.

**Of course I don't, I'm SLEEPING!**

Well, sleep on your own time!

**It—**

Okay, whatever, back to the story.

I yank his hair, tickle his feet, even go down to the bathroom and bring back water to splash on him. He doesn't even show signs of life. I try slapping him and punching him in the stomach; no go. Finally, just when I'd given up, he rolls over and looks blearily up at me.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, so _now _you wake up," I mutter. He makes a confused face. Did he really not feel _any _of that?

"We need to talk," I continue. "Do you even know what happened?"

I see him look around. Suddenly comprehension dawns on him. "We didn't—"

"No, we didn't." I cut him off with a pointed look. "So we need to figure out what to do."

"Make breakfast," he says, "for the kids. Before they wake up. It'll be a nice surprise."

It's my turn to make a bewildered face. But then James hisses, "Wasn't it your idea not to blurt out our plans here?"

Oh. Right.

Okay. "We need to get out of here, as soon as possible," I say, tugging on his wrist. "If we're going to make breakfast, duh."

**We are such pros at undercover conversation. **

Yep. That's us.

We tiptoe to the kitchen, mostly because we have no other excuses. We're still in our Salvation Army clothes, the same ones we'd been eating in and sleeping in for the past couple of years.

And you thought your parents didn't understand your wardrobe needs.

"Oh, no," I say, trying not to make my voice too obviously fake. "There's no food in the refrigerator!" In fact, the thing's completely stocked, but who's looking?

"We have to go get more food," James says, playing along, even though I can tell from his face that he thinks this is the stupidest fake conversation we've ever had.

And if you don't think _that's _a weird sentence, look again.

"Okay. I really want to surprise them, what with this being our cozy new home and all."

I'm overdoing it, I'd know that without your face telling me that, so cut it out, James.

**You're too easy to needle. And it's just too fun. **

Shove it.

**Or what?**

Or I'll shove it for you!

We look around; though I kind of hazily remember what went on last night, I have no recollection of this room. At the far end, I spot a deck. I motion to it with my head; James nods. We stride purposefully across the room, maintaining our fake conversation. Though really, if getting a moment's private conversation takes this much effort, I don't think we'll be doing it so much anymore.

I go out on the deck, shivering, and James slides the door shut behind us. I look down; there's probably only twenty feet of drop to the ground, not even. Suddenly I'm scared.

I was born—_made_—to fly. And yet I'm scared of it.

You must have realized that that's what I'm doing right now. We're going to have to fly, far, far away from here, so far that, unless we have sensors stuck right on _us_, we'll be out of reach of the house.

James quirks an eyebrow at me, but suddenly I'm a little kid again. The first time I flew was in a wind tunnel, and that had ended up disastrously. The scientists put me in, cranked up the wind. I was smashed against the nearest wall.

"C'mon. It won't be bad," he says.

"I'm not scared," I say, making a face. He won't see any weakness in _me. _

He makes a doubtful face but doesn't comment. Then, after a second, "We can do it together."

"Awww, _you're _scared," I taunt, but I take his outstretched hand nonetheless. Together, we plummet from the deck.

It takes two seconds for my brain to process what's going on, another second for it to issue the necessary command, and even less than that for me to unfurl my rust-colored wings. All thirteen feet of them. They're like a hawk's, reddish on the primary feathers, cream underneath.

I have to let go of James' hand—a little reluctantly—because he unfurls his wings too. They're the color of ash on top, a slightly lighter shade of ash underneath. His wingspan is a foot or so wider than mine.

After that, instinct takes over. I don't need to think about what to do; my wings do it for me. I wheel in the air, so exhilarated in the freedom that I don't even remember what I'm doing out here.

Finally, James points to an empty field down below. My primary feathers make some micro-adjustments and we land.

"What are we going to do?" I ask. Back to the present. "Running away didn't really work."

"We can still try it," James says, but I shake my head.

"Not now. I know it's still an experiment, and I know we're not free, but… think about it. There's food, running water, a bed to sleep in…" When he still looks unconvinced, I pull out my best card. "The kids love it."

"How do you know? We haven't talked to them."

I make a face. "If you were a lab rat, living in a cage all your life, and then suddenly they brought you to a house with freedom—okay, freedom under observation, but still, _freedom_—would you really want to be on the run right after that? We'll have to leave sooner or later. I'm just saying, let's take advantage of the situation."

"Whatever you want," James says. He's a little frustrated, I can tell, but I'm convinced I'm right.

"At the first sign of needles, drugs, electrodes," I list off a couple devices that were used on us shamelessly all our lives, "we can scram. But not yet. Okay?"

He nods. I think I've got him convinced.

We take off again—which is a little harder, since we don't have the 20-foot leeway of the deck—and fly back to the house, our decision made.

When we come back into the house, everyone's wide awake and their eyes are fixed on us.

"Isn't this great, guys?" I gush, back in fake conversation mode. "Looks like we're here to stay!"

Bewildered expressions, then looks of comprehension, dawn on the others. I shrug. I don't have time to explain my reasoning to them all right now, because guess who's emerging from his bedroom?

That's right. Sam LeCreaux.

"Hey, guys!" he says, all cheerful. "Did you already eat?"

NO, SORRY, BUT MY EDUCATIONAL LIFE IN A LAB KINDA LEFT COOKING OUT.

Why are you always so negative?

SORRY. I CAN STOP.

No, it's funny.

KAY.

"No," we chorus. Dr. LeCreaux gets to work on the stove.

"I have something to tell you guys," he says.

THIS IS GOING TO BE GOOD.

We all turn to him, trying to look attentive. He continues, "My daughter, Gianna, is living here with us too. She's twenty-three and she's real nice." We all look at him expectantly. That's it? "Uh, that's all. Just wanted to give you a heads-up."

So that was probably who the unknown lady was, when I was looking for James this morning.

Okay. Whatever.

In no time at all, Dr. LeCreaux has breakfast ready on the table; the tastes and fumes are enough to convince me that I was right in my decision to stay. The kids seem to understand me now too—they keep shooting grateful looks in my direction. Well, hey—if we'd run for it, this time today we'd be feasting on something super-appetizing, like desert rat!

YUM.

Yeah, I know, right?

Then suddenly, in the middle of our eating like pigs, the girl—Gianna LeCreaux—comes in.

We all fall silent, staring at her, and she returns it. She's got brown, almost auburn hair, brown eyes, and she's dressed in _pajamas. _

AND HERE I THOUGHT ONLY RICH PEOPLE DRESS IN PAJAMAS.

_No, actually, only people who don't grow up in labs get to wear pajamas._

See what you're doing, Misty? You're getting innocent little Sophie in on your… well…

_Sarcasm would be the word, I think._

Okay, sure. Sarcasm.

FOLLOWING IN MY FOOTSTEPS! I'M SO PROUD!

"So!" Gianna says, breaking the silence. "You're the adopted family Dad told me about!"

"Yeah, family of adopted mutants," Misty mutters.

"Oh, honey," Gianna croons. "Just because you're adopted doesn't mean you're a _mutant._ That's not a very nice thing to say about yourself!"

_Um, it's kind of true. Have you seen the wings? Or the tails and ears and girl who turns into a lab randomly? _I think, and just when I'm about to say so, it dawns on me.

He hasn't told her! Sam hasn't told her that we're mutants! That we're experiments!

Ooooh, I can totally see having some fun with this! I catch James' eye with a mischievous smile. He merely raises an eyebrow, but I can tell he understands.

"Gianna, what does your dad do for a living?" I ask innocently, experimentally. I see Doc looking stricken. We'll see how far this web of lies and deception goes; it'll be _my _little experiment!

"He's a doctor!" she says proudly. Then she turns to Sophie and says, "Oh, aren't you darling!"

Yeah, the darling who knows, like, every word in the dictionary and likes quoting it for fun, but okay.

She doesn't know. I can't believe she doesn't know!

We're all standing around Gianna in a semi-circle, rattling off stuff we need and want. Doc told her that we "need to adjust" so we're "not to go out of the house for a while", meaning she's taking care of our shopping.

Shopping! You go into a store and take what you want! That concept never fails to amaze me.

Anyways, so we're all standing around her when Misty's DNA decides to have one of its stupid little problems. She disappears, and in her place stands a Golden Retriever.

Gianna notices right away. "Who's this little puppy?"

"That's Misty, our dog," I explain before anyone else can, and give Misty-the-Dog a glare. If she dares to talk right now…

"Where's Misty the girl?"

OH, SO YOU NOTICED, DID YOU?

"She went to pick a few things up. Uh, from her room. She just told you, remember?"

Gianna buys it. "I'll get some dog stuff, too, then," she says. We all smile and nod, smile and nod, until she leaves.

Misty comes back into human form. "It wore off, and I could've changed back, but I stayed as a dog so she wouldn't suspect," she explains.

"Good," I say. "Now we have another lie to keep track of. We're not mutants, we're Sam's adopted family—" I resist the urge to spit "—and we've got a dog named Misty."

"Right," Simon says with a determined face, and everyone else nods along.

"Okay," I say, sighing. "Meeting adjourned."

**A/N: So, anyone interested in finding out what happens? If you are(and even if you aren't) there is a beautiful blue button right down there. Feel free to tell me your opinions.**

**Thanks, THE MUSHROOM! =)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, here's another chapter! Note: Single bolded and italicized underlined words are Robbie's input and bolded and underlined words are Simon's. **

**CH. 2**

While Gianna was out shopping, Sam began showing us around the house.

SHAME HE'S ALREADY A WHITECOAT. HE WOULD'VE MADE AN EXCELLENT TOUR GUIDE.

_Tour guide_—

That's okay Soph, we know what a tour guide is.

**By some miracle.**

MY GOODNESS, PUT IN ON THE CALENDAR! JAMES SPOKE THREE WHOLE WORDS!

Alright everyone! I was trying to tell the world our story!

OUR MOST SINCERE APOLOGIES, DEAREST REYNE.

Save it Misty. Go chew a bone or something. As I was trying to say, Sam was showing us our new home away from home.

Honestly, though, the house is awesome. There's a Wii (Simon stopped off right there. He's pretty darn good with technology. He'll probably be glued to it until he figures out everything there is to know about it.) along with a bunch of games; a room full of books—

_It's called a library, Reyne! _

SAME THING SOPHIA! BESIDES, WHO CARES ABOUT A LIBRARY WHEN YOU HAVE THAT BEAUTIFUL SWIMMING POOL…

Enough! Soph, go back to the library, honey. Misty, go chase the mailman or something.

HAHA. MY SIDES ARE SPLITTING FROM YOUR AMAZING SENSE OF HUMOR. NOT!

Anyways there is a _library_—happy Sophia—and there's a pool in the basement, a playground for the little kids in the backyard, you name it and chances are Sam got it.

Then we got to the glorious kitchen, the shrine of the best thing mankind has to offer: food. Then Sam got a 'bright' idea to teach us all how to cook that wondrous substance. That pulled us all down from cloud nine. It was obviously part of the Experiment, teaching us to fend for ourselves. But, cooking is always a good thing to learn, right?

Wrong! The cooking class did not go so well…

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I AM NEVER GOING NEAR A STOVE AGAIN! IT'S HELLO PB&J FOR THIS PUP!

**No offense Reyne, but the same goes for me…the whole thing was pretty much a disaster.**

Traitor.

_Disaster: a damaging or destructive event; somebody or something unsuccessful. Example: Reyne's pancakes. _

Thank you so much hon, but we all know what a disaster is.

YEAH. OUR LIVES SO FAR AND YOUR PANCAKES.

Moving off of the topic of my pancakes.

ACTUALLY, LET'S STAY ON IT FOR A MOMENT. PERHAPS EVERYONE WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT WE ARE TALKING ABOUT…

Grrr. Fine. So basically Sam decided to start with something 'simple'. Like pancakes. We were all fairly excited, and so we agreed to take turns doing everything.

**Yeah. After the huge fight of who gets to mix everything…thank you Misty!**

WHAT? I SAID IT FIRST!

**No you didn't I did!**

No one asked you Robbie!

_**Ummm, Reyne? That was Simon…**_

Well tell him to stop acting like you!

_**Simon, Reyne says to—**_

I'm sure he heard me! And if not he can read this later. So, everyone shut it while I relate our lovely experience in the kitchen…

WELL, I DID SAY IT FIRST…

[Everyone]: **SHUT UP MISTY!**

Alright. So we were going to take turns doing everything. Sam got the pancake mix out. It was a simple one—just add eggs and water. I cracked one egg (miraculously) and James and Simon cracked the others. Mari and Robbie dumped in the pancake mix. Sophie and Misty were supposed to mix it together and pour in the water, but Misty's DNA acted up again. She let out a spiel of interesting vocabulary and I had to clap my hands over Sophia's ears so that she didn't start defining them. (Hopefully she didn't know them.)

_You treat me like a baby Reyne._

You're only five, and one thing I don't need is a swearing five-year-old mutant on my hands.

REMEMBER REYNE, JUST 'CAUSE WE'RE 'ADOPTED' DOESN'T MEAN WE'RE MUTANTS!

_**Shut up Gianna!**_

**Yeah, Reyne was just getting to the funny part!**

_Flour in my hair was NOT funny!_

Yeah, in my attempt to shield Sophia, she got a slight dusting of flour in her hair…

_SLIGHT DUSTING! I looked like George Washington's grandmother!_

WHO THE HECK IS GEORGE WASHINGTON? FURTHERMORE, HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HIM OR HIS GRANDMOTHER?

_MISTY! He was the first president in America! Where have you been?_

LOCKED UP IN A FREAKING DOG CAGE (SHUT IT SIMON, I GET IT) IN AN UNDERGROUND LAB!

…And so anyway Misty turned back and got to mix the batter. Then Sam brought us over to the gridle.

"OK, everyone. Just so you know this is hot, so don't touch it." At that James and I rolled our eyes. I mean, he's stood by while other whitecoats have done goodness knows what to us and now he's scrared we'll get a little burn. Go figure.

Well, it was my turn first to pour the batter. Sam showed us a sample one and it looked real easy. So I poured the batter onto the gridle and ended up with a fairly large blob that was more or less round.

IT LOOKED LIKE A DEFORMED—

They get the picture, Misty. Yours wasn't so great either.

**Mine was.**

Somehow I don't recall asking your opinion, James! (His actually was pretty darn good, though.) After we all poured some batter onto the gridle, it was time to flip the pancakes. Sam showed us on his model and then handed the spatula to me.

BIG MISTAKE.

_Mistake—_

_**Reyne's pancake!**_

Unfortunately, they are right. I guess I was a tad too enthusiastic and I flipped the pancake too hard and it flew up on the ceiling, gooey side up. We all kinda stared up at it for a minute and then the door opened.

"Hi, anyone home?" Oh great. Gianna was home. She walked into the kitchen, hugged Sam—

EWWWWW!

_Revolting—_

**My opinion exactly.**

No one asked you guys!

WE TRY TO ANTICIPATE YOUR EVERY DESIRE AND COMMAND, LADY REYNE.

That's Queen Reyne to you, peasant! So she hugged Sam and then finally noticed the half-cooked pancake on the ceiling. Oh joy.

"Uhhh, Dad? What's that?" And then she was naturally standing right underneath my deformed creation, and it fell and hit her right in the face.

WHAT GOES UP, MUST COME DOWN!

_Actually it's a gravitational law—_

**A what?**

_A law pertaining to gravity._

_**One more time in English?**_

**It's why we don't go flying around everywhere—oh, never mind!**

Nice try, James.

Anyhow, Gianna was standing there with this pancake on her face. I thought she was gonna blow, but she stayed calm.

"Guys, I'm going to go wash this off and then we can go see what I got you, alright?" She said, her voice annoyingly calm. Once again, James and I shared one of those looks. Not only doesn't she know about our 'special qualities', but she has crazy patience! Now we can get into the good pranks!

MUAHAHAHAHA!

Scratch that. James and I will get into the good pranks.

**Yes! My partner in crime!**

JAMES AND REYNE, SITTIN' IN A TREE. K-I-S-S-I-N-G! FIRST COMES—

**Shut up, Misty! **Shut it! Note to self: buy a muzzle.

_Love: to feel affection for somebody…_

Thank you, sweetie, but James and I are NOT in love!

**Newsflash: We're fourteen! Well, I am at least…**

And I am too! Just because you were stuck in the lab seven freaking more months than me—

**Seven months and 2 weeks, if you really want to know.**

Well, I didn't, so there!

**A/N: Sorry for all the side conversations but they were too fun to resist! =) I'll try to put minimal side convos in future chapters though...**

**By the way everyone who bothers to read this, I heart reviews! Thank you MaximumMelody for reviewing!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Don't own it. Sorry it took so long to update.**

**Ch. 3**

After lunch (Sam made it, don't worry) we all gathered around Gianna to see what she got us.

"Alright, everyone. Wait, where's Misty-the-dog?" She asked as she scanned the circle of kids around her.

"Ummm," I cast a desperate look at James.

"We, uh…" He stalled. Great, he doesn't know what to do either. Oh joyous.

"We let it outside!" That was Simon, saving our bird/dog/cat butts.

GREAT. NOW I'M AN IT.

She does have a point, Simon. Calling your girlfriend an 'it' is not exactly polite…

**She's not my girlfriend!**

Whatever. You know, you are kinda cute when you blush all red like that, Simon. But, I'm done picking on my little brother, after all he did just get us out of a mess…

So, Gianna looked relieved and then started sorting through her half a dozen bags.

"OK, I think this is Reyne's stuff. You wanted jeans and sweatshirts, right?"

"Yup." I took the bag and quickly scanned the contents. No pink, black, or purple. Life is good.

"James, this is yours… Simon, Mari, here you go…" Gianna was grabbing bags and boxes right and left. How she knew where everything was amazed me.

"Oh, Misty, honey I didn't know what you wanted so I got some stuff any ways. You were in your room or something…" Gianna handed our favorite Canine-American a nice assortment of shoeboxes and bags. "Go on, open it up."

Misty started pulling out clothes from the bags. Out came skinny jeans, normal jeans, a sweatshirt, and some T-shirts—and the majority of the above ranged in color from pearly pink to lavender.

LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT FOR EVERYONE: PINK/LAVENDER+MISTY= NICE ASSORTMENT OF BROKEN BONES. NOT A PRETTY SIGHT.

That is true. But naturally we don't go around breaking mere humans' bones, right Misty?

HUMPH.

_An interjection used as an expression of displeasure._

Thanks, honey, for clarifying that. Anyway, Misty looked so darn funny. She was trying to smile—

**Keyword trying.**

—and restrain herself from snapping Gianna's neck at the same time. And when Gianna asked if she liked it? Misty's face was priceless. Finally she managed a little nod that satisfied Gianna.

"I am so wearing your clothes." She whispered as she sat back down.

Everything after that was fine, except that Sophia had gotten mostly skirts. If we were going to teach that kid to fly, she would be wearing flight-appropriate clothes.

_What's wrong with a skirt? They're short so they wouldn't get tangled up._

Well, honey, when you're up in the air in a skirt—

BASICALLY IT AIN'T A PRETTY PICTURE FROM THE GROUND. SO GET SOME PANTS.

After that however, Gianna got out some bags from the pet store.

"Here, this stuff is for Misty-the-dog." We looked inside and Sophia began pulling out the contents.

"Food dish, water dish, a collar…" Soph was handing the stuff to Misty-the-girl, who was turning at least three or four shades of red.

Then Mari pulled out some suspicious looking cans. Misty's jaw dropped. "That better be tuna fish for the sake of the rest of the universe," she murmured.

"Chicken and rice, lamb and potatoes, duck with fresh veggies, salmon and carrots…" Mari started reading off the labels. I could see Misty trying to keep herself from losing it, but she just snapped when Sophia pulled out this little coat thingy…

"There is no way on heaven or earth that you're getting me into that thing." She murmured sotto voce. And this whole time she's trying to keep this nonchalant look on her face… And Gianna was so oblivious of Misty it was hilarious. Even Sam was looking like he might actually crack a smile.

Anyways, that was our very first shopping experience.

ONE OF WHICH WE NEED NEVER REPEAT… UNLESS ANYONE HAS A TASTE FOR GIANNA PIE A LA MODE.

**Oh, gosh Misty… That's sick, would you really do that? **

Yeah. She would.

LESSON OF THE DAY FOR ALL YOU INNOCENT LITTLE 100% HUMANS KIDDIES OUT THERE, NEVER EVER GIVE MISTY DOG FOOD, A LEASH, PINK CLOTHES, AND A BLASTED COAT FOR DOGS THINGY ALL IN ONE DAY. IT'S THE LAST WORD IN INHUMANE.

Wow, the same kid who can last for more than a decade in some sickos' lab snaps on her first shopping experience. But that's my family for ya. Unusual.

**You can say that again…**

**Sorry that was so short everyone. I would really like to get some reviews and there's this neglected and love-starved blue button right there...**


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